Unforeseeable Relations
by BornThisWay
Summary: John and Sherlock are married; however, John is still in Afghanistan. Scotland Yard have never met John. How will DI Lestrade and the rest of his team react to finding out that Sherlock, the self-diagnosed sociopath, has a husband? AU. John/Sherlock. SLASH PAIRING. Reviews are welcome and encouraged!
1. Chapter 1

Unforeseeable Relations

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters; they are the property of BBC and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I only play with them:) Also, initial plot ideas belong to ArthurDent2.  
Author's Note: This is my first published fanfic, and I am excited to submerse myself into the writing world! I want to specially thank my beta, Marauder52611. She's an awesome writer. Go check out her stories too. I also want to thank Arthur Dent2 for giving me the inspiration to write this fic. Lastly, I want to thank BBC for creating this awesome couple. (Even though they are not a real couple in the show, the evidenvce obvious.) **

Chapter1

Lestrade POV

It was another routine day at the Yard. Well, as routine as a day can be spending it with Sherlock. In the year that he had known the man, it was quite clear that he would never change. His genius was admirable but it was sometimes outshone by his amazing tendency to act like a pompous ass. Really, that man had no regard for emotion or human sentiment. Of course, today was no different. There had been another homicide that was seemingly unsolvable (Well, according to Sherlock, they were all idiots who could hardly find a clue with a neon sign pointing to it. *cough *cough -pompous ass). This time it was a middle aged women who had been murdered in three possible ways; there were lacerations and bruising on her neck, evidence of a severe blow to her cranium, and multiple stab wounds inflicted on her torso. (It was not a pretty sight.) So, inevitably they called in the consulting detective to form one of his brilliant deductions, while simultaneously insulting the intelligence of Lestrade's entire team, and tell them who to arrest.

It was not until near noon when something out of the ordinary happened. Sherlock was in the middle of telling them why to arrest the brother if the neighbor had an aquamarine car when he got a phone call, which was not in itself unusual; however what Sherlock proceeded to do next was. Now, usually Sherlock would ignore it with an air of slight irritation and carry on his rant. This time, though, he stopped and checked the caller ID. Huh, must have been expecting a client to call or something, thought Lestrade. A look of anticipation and excitement-unusual for Sherlock-crossed his face as he strode off to answer it. Again, Lestrade just dismissed it as a client with a particularly puzzling murder or something. Lord knows what kind of morbid things excite that man.

Forty minutes passed and, and Sherlock had still not returned. Lestrade was starting to wonder if he had found something more interesting and abandoned Scotland Yard. "The Freak's probably up and left by now, leaving us high and dry. No sane person would be on the phone with him that long. This is probably some practical joke to him or something." remarked Sgt. Donovan. "Yeah, Sally's right. S'not like he cares about us standing out here, freezing like one of his experiments. (The last drugs bust they performed saw them thoroughly disgusted with what the consulting detective slash self-diagnosed sociopath kept in his freezer). " said Anderson, predictably agreeing with Donovan when it came to their mutual animosity for the detective. "Now, now," said Lestrade, as if he were talking to children (which was not far off considering these two), "I'll go look for him. I'm sure he just lost track of time or something." Donovan rolled her eyes, and Anderson muttered sarcastically, as he turned to set off in search of the elusive younger Holmes man.

The longer he search, the less Lestrade actually believed he would locate Sherlock. If that man didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be. He was just about to give up when he heard a voice. The low baritone drawl could only belong to Sherlock. He must've still been on the phone, which was exceedingly curious for Sherlock as the man had little patience and was very concise in his phone calls. Lestrade quickly assessed that he was close enough to hear his voice but not enough to decipher what he was saying. In an attempt to remedy that, he followed the sound. What he proceeded to overhear shocked him.

"I want you to return in one piece, John." John? He never mentioned a John. thought Lestrade suspiciously. There was something odd though in Sherlock's voice. If it were any other man, he would say that it was filled with genuine concern, worry, and love; however, such emotions would surely by scoffed upon by the self-diagnosed sociopath, right? He was jarred from his thoughts when Sherlock spoke again, "I love you too." With that sentence he ended the call and Lestrade's capacity for rational thought through the weight of the utterly astounding realization that accompanied the obvious sentiment. Reality set in as Lestrade began to attempt to figure out who was on the other end of the call. Before he could get any further, however, Sherlock addressed him in his usual condescending tone, "I can hear you stumbling over your words, even in your thoughts, Lestrade. So let me answer your painfully obvious inquires. Who would it be, that I would express such emotion toward? It is obviously not my brother, as you have seen my displays of animosity towards him and his name is not John. It is also clearly not my father, I would not address him by his first name. You have considered that I would disregard cultural norms and call him by his first name but this is not the case. Friends or acquaintances? None that I would express such a sentiment to, so the question is who? My husband."

Lestrade could only stutter his response as his mind tried to process the revelation that Sherlock cared about someone that deeply (It sounded cruel, he knew, but this was the self-proclaimed sociopath they were talking about), "Y-y-your husband? Since when? And why didn't I know about this?" "To answer your questions, Detective Inspector, I didn't feel it necessary to divulge all the details of my personal life to the likes of Scotland Yard, particularly Anderson and Donovan. As to the amount of time, I have been married for three years." Said the consulting detective almost sharply. Lestrade was only capable of responding with another question, "Why don't you wear a ring?" Sherlock answered the inquiry by pulling a necklace of some sort out from under his shirt. Attached to the chain was a gleaming silver band with some sort of inscription on it. At the Detective Inspector's inquisitive look, Sherlock answered his unspoken question with a slightly annoyed expression, "John is an army doctor serving in Afghanistan. He is frequently in battle and would easily lose something as small as a wedding ring. Therefore, it is logical for him to wear it on his dog tags. In the same spirit, I wear mine around my neck. It would also be very easily lost or damaged in my line of work." Lestrade could manage a congratulations as he processed the implications of this confession. To his surprise, he heard an almost inaudible thank-you from the world's only consulting detective as he strode away, coat billowing behind him. Today was full of unexpected discoveries. Sherlock's absence left Lestrade full of questions while he pondered how to explain the detective's leaving to his team, who had been waiting for him for twenty minutes...Oops.


	2. Chapter 2

**Authors Note: Hello fellow readers and aspiring writers! I just want to start by thanking everyone for reviewing and following my story. To answer some kind reviewers, I do intend to take this fic all the way through where John gets shot and hopefully further:) Another thank you to my beta, Marauder5611, for staying up late to edit this. Please Review!**

**Disclaimer: The characters in the fiction below belong to BBC and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. (God bless you Benedict Cumberbatch XD) I, however, do own the plot and enjoy very much messing with these characters. Happy Reading!**

Chapter Two:

Lestrade never told the rest of the Yard about Sherlock's confession. Truth be told he was happy that Sherlock had someone, and maybe on some level he sought to protect Sherlock in some sort of fatherly gesture. He knew full well that the reactions would be explosive if not a little hilarious. No, the day that they found out came two months later and without the DI's interference.

It had been another case where they enlisted the help of the infamous consulting detective (which was becoming far too much of a routine the the opinions of the higher ups in the Yard as well as Donovan and Anderson who complained unflaggingly about the consulting detective's presence). This time the case involved a murder done by a possible serial killer, or so they were informed by Sherlock. They were supposed to rendezvous with him at the Yard at six o'clock so he could tell them who to arrest and how to go about doing it in his usual condescending manner; however, when the time rolled around the consulting detective was no where in sight yet again.

"Freak's late. Honestly, did we have to call him again? He's so rude and insulting, and he obviously gets off on this stuff." remarked Sgt. Donovan sounding akin to a petulant child. "Rude or not, we need him. As insulting as he may come off, he is brilliant and his deductions solve us cases. How many times must I tell you that you are to treat him as a colleague whether you like him or not." Replied Lestrade, ever so loyally coming to Sherlock's defense as always.

Just then, they received a report about gunshots and the sounds of a scuffle coming from a house in one of the shadier (to put things lightly) neighborhoods in London. Any other time the team would not connect the two events; however, they learned from their time working with Sherlock not to believe in coincidences. They quickly dispatched a team to the location. It seemed odd that Sherlock did not text them the address, but that man proved time and time again to be eccentric and unpredictable.

What they saw when they got there should have been unsurprising after so many months with the consulting detective. Sherlock, the impulsive bastard he is, had gone ahead and tracked down the killer in question without consulting the Yard first. The gunshots and subsequent noises evident of a struggle had been from the fight which ended with the killer, who was 6'5" and around 19 stone, effectively unconscious, an impressive feat considering Sherlock's lithe frame; however, the infuriating consulting detective in question did not escape totally unscathed. On the contrary, he sustained a severe gunshot wound to his stomach and was on the floor, nearing unconsciousness.

The team sprung into action putting the criminal in handcuffs and calling an ambulance for Sherlock. Meanwhile, Lestrade rushed over to the him in an attempt to keep him alive until the ambulance arrived. He ended up having to take the detective's already tattered shirt off to assess the wound and try and staunch the blood flow. Sally came over to help him because, despite being annoying and sometimes childish, she was not heartless. Once they located the bullet and applied pressure to stop the bleeding, all they could do was wait for the paramedics. Then, Donovan noticed something dangling around Sherlock's neck. She reached to grab the silver band and read the inscription: With unconditional love-your John. Donovan's face registered the shock as she said, "Why would the Freak be wearing a wedding ring around his neck? He's got no friends. Lord knows there is no one insane enough to marry him. " Her tone was one of complete disapproval and dismissal, and it angered Lestrade. How could she stand here passing judgement on a man who was bleeding out on the floor beside them? On a man that had cover their asses on multiple occasions? Sure, he could be insulting and annoying and held no regard for social niceties, but really? "It is not your place to make those kinds of judgements. Especially not on a man who is dying from a gunshot wound right beside you." he told her sternly. She regarded him with an air of suspicion, "You knew didn't you. He told yo-" Donovan's accusations were interrupted by the sirens and lights of the oncoming ambulance erupting in the air. In his unconscious haze, Sherlock managed to call one name, "John?"

Long after the ambulance left and the crime scene had been cleaned up, Donovan approached Lestrade with a determined look. Already inferring what she was going to say, Lestrade sighed long-sufferingly and answered her unspoken queries, "Now, this is none of your business but knowing you, you'll get into a huge argument with Sherlock if I don't answer your question here and now, and that is something I neither have the time nor the patience for. His husband's name is John. He is an army doctor currently serving in Afghanistan, and wears his ring on his dog tags so as not to lose them in battle. So, Sherlock wears his around his neck too; it would be easy for him to lose his as well, all the running around that he does. They have been married for three years."

Donovan took a moment to process everything, but then just snorted, "Ha. It would take someone with army training to put up with Freak. How do you know he's even real though?" Lestrade just rolled his eyes like he was expecting her response. "Sherlock wouldn't be so transparent. Besides, he has no reason to lie about this." She scoffed, "Come on, really? I don't believe such a person exists. Nobody would willingly tie themselves down to Freak, unless they were madder than he is." Lestrade had had enough and responded, "No Donovan, you come on. Can't you be happy for Sherlock just this once?" With that he turned and walked to his squad car.

So, it inevitably spread around the Yard that Sherlock had a husband. Most were shocked and disbelieving, but then, according to Sherlock most people were idiots.


End file.
